Evanesce
by SlyLilSlyth
Summary: Magic bound and missing some memories, Harry Potter decides to take his fate and twist it to suit him. Wherein Harry is a bit more Slytherin. Dark!Creature!Harry. Bashing: AD, GW. Better summary will be posted as the story develops!


**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I own anything to do with Harry Potter. A good portion of this chapter comes straight out of HP: OotP _—_ _I do not own it! I only own the changes that I made!_

 **Prologue**

 **Words: 3,473**

Something was wrong. As soon as they had all gotten to the Hall of Prophecy, Harry had felt that something was wrong. He knew he wasn't any good at Oclumency. He knew that Voldemort could have given him a false vision.

He just didn't know _why._ He didn't know why the madman would go to the trouble of sending him some fake vision.

And then Ron spoke. "Harry?"

And his skin started to feel too tight. "What?"

There wasn't any sign of a struggle. The vision had obviously been faked. But _why—_

"Have you seen this?" came Ron's voice.

"What?" Harry asked eagerly. Perhaps Ron had found something? Something that would put Harry's uneasy feeling to rest? He knew they were in the right place—the row numbers were the same as in the vision, there was the same dreary feel to the place. And yet it was much too quiet. It was like the calm before the storm. When Harry saw the look on Ron's face, he knew that that was exactly what it was: the calm before the storm. "What?" he repeated, dreading the answer.

Ron looked up at him. "It's—it's got your name on it."

And as he edged closer to the little dusty orb that his redheaded friend was pointing to, the foreboding feeling made his hair stand on end. "My name?"

And as he craned his neck so that he could read the tag, the feeling drained from him. It left him in a cold, calm state. At the same time as he read the tag, he saw movement on either side of him from people he hadn't brought with him.

His eyes flicked left for half a second to see a flash of long, white-blond hair and a face hidden behind a silver mask.

Then his eyes flicked right to see the well hidden figure of their ever beloved headmaster—their master manipulator—the puppet master.

And the cold turned to a dead anger.

But then he looked straight ahead and read the tag. And the dead anger turned to a fiery inferno of fury, because there, written in spindly, spider-like writing, the tag read:

S.P.T. to A.P.W.B.D.

Dark Lord

and (?) Harry Potter

He knew. He knew what was contained in the swirling, slightly glowing depths of the orb in front of him. And he knew that it directly had to do with him—and Voldemort. And Dumbledore knew, too.

He felt like laughing. He nearly did; the only thing that kept him from cracking was the uncertain look on his friends' faces. Ron looked unnerved, Hermione looked as though she was trying to figure out what the object held, and Ginny seemed to be curious. But Neville and Luna—they knew. Neville was pale, and his eyes were slightly widened in fear. Luna had her normal ditzy, spaced out smile on her face, yet her eyes were sharp. He had no doubt that she knew.

Harry was tempted to look Dumbledore right in the eye as he reached up and grabbed the prophecy, not listening to Hermione's cry of 'Harry, don't!' He was only slightly surprised that the orb was warm. He had known that it would be, but knowing and experiencing were entirely different; the orb had certainly looked as though it would be ice cold, but it was pleasantly warm.

The others crowded around him like they expected something spectacular to happen. He managed to hold back a sneer, but still had to roll his eyes at their imbecilic nature. Harry closed his eyes as he felt a presence draw near that obviously wasn't one of his friends. He nearly smiled when he heard the rich, drawling voice from behind them.

"Very good, Potter. Now turn around, nice and slowly, and give that to me."

And then black shapes descended upon them. They couldn't move right or left, and Harry felt the need to laugh tear through him once more.

"To me, Potter," Lucius repeated, holding out his hand as though he expected Harry to be so stupid as to simply hand it over.

During the moment of tentative calm, Harry squeezed down on the prophecy, focusing his magic into his hand before guiding it into the crystal. He could only hope that he was doing this correctly; he knew there was a block on his magic, making it harder to control in such a way, and he had only read how to do this once before, during the summer when he only had his divination book available and had nothing better to do.

Suddenly, a harsh raspy voice echoed throughout his head, and he smiled in grim satisfaction. ' _The_ _one with the power to vanquish the—'_

"To me," Malfoy said yet again. He was starting to sound irritated, Harry noted distractedly.

 _'—Dark Lord approaches…Born to those who have thrice defied him, born—'_

The voice droned on in his mind, and time seemed to tick ever slower. He knew that there was no chance of hearing the entire prophecy before somebody got impatient and attacked. He needed a distraction.

 _'—as the seventh month dies…and the Dark Lord will—'_

"Where's Sirius?" he asked, knowing that it would draw the attention of everyone, buying time.

 _'—mark him as his equal, but he will have—'_

And several of the Death Eaters laughed at his inquiry. He snorted at how easily their attention was diverted. One of the females in the group cackled something about the Dark Lord always knowing in a grating voice. The harsh quality of her voice made Harry want to wince, imagining how it must hurt to speak.

"Always," the blond aristocrat echoed softly. "Now, give me the prophecy, Potter." Harry bit the inside of his cheek to refrain from informing Malfoy about just how much he sounded like a broken record player. The thought almost made him laugh: the stunned, angry, shocked look that he imagined on the blond's face almost made it worth it.

"I want to know where Sirius is!"

And the same, grating female mocked him, _"I want to know where Sirius is!"_ The Death Eaters had moved closer, the light from their wands dazzling to the eyes.

 _'—power the Dark Lord knows not…and_ _—'_

"You've got him." Harry knew that they didn't. It was glaringly obvious. "He's here. I know he is."

 _"The little baby woke up frightened and fort what it dweamed was twoo,"_ the woman cooed in a mock-baby voice.

Ron, pressed against Harry's side, began to move as though starting to raise his wand. "Don't," Harry muttered, "do anything. Not yet _—"_

And the woman let out raucous laughter, and Harry wondered about her sanity. "You hear him? _You hear him?_ Giving instructions to the other children as though he thinks of fighting us!"

 _'—either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other—'_

Malfoy chuckled and prattled on to her about how 'Potter loves his heroics' or some such nonsense. Harry didn't care as he tossed that line of the prophecy around with a frown. He knew that Dumbledore would have taken the line to mean that he'd have to kill or be killed. Yet Harry doubted it: prophecies tended to speak in riddles. He could only hope that held true in this case...

Knowing his luck, it wouldn't.

" _—_ _give me the prophecy, Potter!"_

He really hoped that the prophecy was almost done. It was obvious that Lucius was getting impatient. He could only use Sirius as a distraction for so long. "I know Sirius is here!" His eyes darted around, looking for another diversion in case it was needed. _"I know you've got him!"_

 _'_ _—survives…The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord—'_

And then Malfoy smirked cruelly and Harry knew that his time was up. "It's time you learned the differenec between life and dreams, Potter." He paused, as though thinking about something. "Now give me the prophecy, or we start using wands."

 _'_ _—will be born as the seventh month dies…'_

And then he was alone in his head. There was a resounding silence, a ringing in his ears. He let out a breath, relieved.

"Go on, then," he said as he raised his wand. As he did so, the others followed, and he felt sorrow briefly for bringing his friends to what may very well be their deaths. But the cloaked figures didn't attack.

Instead, Malfoy gave him another chance: "Hand over the prophecy and no one need get hurt."

And the thought of Malfoy being a broken record player popped into his head again. This time, however, he couldn't keep from laughing, though he managed to make it sound sarcastic. "Yeah, right! I give you this _—_ prophecy, is it? And you'll just let us skip off home, will you?"

The words had hardly left his lips before the female's voice cried out a spell.

From there, things just started going down hill. If you asked Harry about what happened, he wouldn't've been able to tell you. Everything blurred together, but there were sharp moments of clarity: a Death Eater's head going through the different phases of life, Hermione getting hit by a purple spell and going down in front of him but not rising again, Luna flying limply through the air but failing to rise afterwords, Ron summoning a brain to him then whimpering _—begging_ them to stop, Neville being held under the Cruciatus...

And then Sirius was falling back through the Veil.

Everything else before that moment was blurred together. He thought he could remember talking to Malfoy, but he wasn't sure. He thought Malfoy had explained...something about the prophecy and his scar. He _thought_ he had taunted the Death Eaters, but he really couldn't remember, and he couldn't care to remember.

He came back to himself when Sirius fell through the Veil, and then suddenly there were arms around him, holding him back. His mind distanced itself from his body. He was aware that Lupin was holding him back; he was aware that the battle was still going on around him. He was even aware that he was fighting _—yelling_ even _—_ at Lupin, but he wasn't in control. It wasn't him, not really.

Instead, he was thinking: thinking about what he had learned tonight, and thinking about what his next move would be. He would take the time to grieve for his godfather later, when he was alone. _But that doesn't mean that I won't take revenge..._ he thought as he saw Bellatrix fleeing the battle. Lupin had let him go when he stopped struggling. Then he made eye contact with her, and that was all he needed.

He was up and rushing after her before anybody could reach for him. He heard people yelling after him, telling him to stop, but he didn't care. He wanted revenge.

While riding the lift up, his scar tingled and itched. In the hidden safety of being alone, Harry smirked. He had hoped the man would show up before Dumbledore could 'save' him. Now he only had to find him and talk to him. _Which isn't about to happen. Not easily at least._ When the lift slowed to a stop, Harry forced himself out before the grilles were completely open, knowing that Dumbledore would be following _—he's been doing so all bloody night_ _—_ he wanted to talk to Voldemort before the headmaster could interfere.

Harry sprinted towards Bellatrix. He _had_ to get revenge on her for what she had done. A spell zoomed past his shoulder and the look on his face caused him to look feral. He had no doubt that his grin was deranged as he ducked behind the Fountain of Magical Brethren. Then the clicking of shoes on wooden ground stopped.

Then she called out in her mock-baby voice, _"Come out, come out, little Harry!_ What did you come after me for, then? I thought you were here to avenge my dear cousin!"

And though he knew she was baiting him, he couldn't help but respond. "I am!" His voice echoed back at him, seeming endless.

"Ahh...did you _love_ him, little baby Potter?"

And then his fury and need for revenge shifted, falling away so that this newfound hatred could well and boil over. And he wanted to see her in pain. He watched, detached, as his hand rose to point at Bellatrix while he moved from his hiding spot with a cry of _"Crucio!"_

And then she was screaming. And he felt a sick pleasure in her writhes. It didn't last long, though; a few seconds later she was back on her feet, breathless and no longer laughing. He saw her spell coming towards him and ducked again. He didn't know what it was, but it beheaded the wizard from the Fountain of Brethren. He figured it would have done much worse had it hit him.

And then she was screeching at him, abandoning the baby voice. "Never used an Unforgivable Curse before, have you, boy? You need to _mean_ them, Potter! You need to really want to cause pain _—_ to enjoy it _—_ righteous anger won't hurt me for long _—_ I'll show you how it is done, shall I? I'll give you a lesson _—_ "

And then he was ducking again as the Cruciatus sailed past him, colliding and severing the centaur's arm from the statue.

"Potter, you cannot win against me!" Bellatrix cried out as she shuffled to the right. Harry moved with her, using the Fountain as a shield of sorts. "I was and am the Dark Lord's most loyal servant, I learned the Dark Arts from him, and I know spells of such power that you, pathetic little boy, can never hope to compete _—_ "

 _"Stupefy!"_ Harry shouted, getting annoyed with her boasting. He had to roll almost as soon as the spell left his lips as she reflected it back to him.

"Potter, I am going to give you one chance! Give me the prophecy _—_ roll it out toward e now _—_ and I may spare your life!"

Harry smirked. "Well, you're going to have to kill me, because it's gone!" And then his smirk grew wider, almost painfully so, as pain seared throughout his head. Fury not his own caused his blood to run hot and he let out a mad laugh that rivaled Bellatrix's. "And he knows! He's not going to be happy with you, is he?"

And her face paled slightly. "What? What do you mean?" And her voice was tempered with fear.

And Harry was only too happy to let her know: "The prophecy smashed when I was trying to get Neville up the steps! What do you think Voldemort'll say about that, then?"

His head was pounding and he was slightly surprised that his scar hadn't started to bleed. Her shrill voice asulted his ears and he wished her dead, or mute at the very least. "LIAR!" And he could hear the terror loud and clear. "YOU'VE GOT IT, POTTER, AND YOU WILL GIVE IT TO ME _—Accio Prophecy! ACCIO PROPHECY!"_

And Harry laughed some more, not entirely able to stop; her terror was delicious, and the pain centered around his scar made him feel like he would lose his mind. "Nothing there! Nothing to summon! It smashed and nobody heard what it said!"

"No! It isn't true, you're lying _—_ MASTER, I TRIED, I TRIED _—_ DO NOT PUNISH ME _—_ "

And Harry sniggered, the pain making him breathless. He sensed movement nearby, and he opened his eyes, not sure when exactly they had closed. Voldemort stood, wand pointed directly at him with his eyes narrowed. "So you smashed my prophecy?" Blood red eyes roved over Harry's face and his lipless mouth tightened in displeasure. "No, Bella, he is not lying...I see the truth looking at me from within his worthless mind...Months of preparation, months of effort...and my Death Eaters have let Harry Potter thwart me again..."

And then Bellatrix flung herself down at her Lord's feet. "Master, I am sorry, I knew not, I was fighting the Animagus Black! Master, you should know _—_ "

"Be quiet, Bella," hissed Voldemort dangerously. Harry shivered, starting to wonder just how stupid he was being, wanting to talk to an insane, megalomaniac who had been trying to kill him his entire life. "I shall deal with you in a moment. Do you think I have entered the Ministry of Magic to hear your sniveling apologies?"

"But Master _—_ he is here _—_ he is below _—_ "

But Voldemort paid her no mind, instead he turned to Harry. "I have nothing more to say to you, Potter." His voice was soft, quiet. "You have irked me too often, for too long." And he cast the Killing Curse. Harry did nothing to stop him; he could sense Dumbledore. And while he didn't trust the man, he knew the bastard still wanted him alive _—_ after all, what use was his weapon if it was dead? And sure enough, the old man chose that as the time to step in.

Harry watched the two with jaded eyes. Neither were a good choice to side with, but at least Voldemort was open with his manipulations. He didn't care enough to hide behind a curtain as he pulled your strings and made you dance.

Suddenly, the teen was pulled back to himself as a searing pain worse than any before burst from his scar _—_ and then he was no longer in the hall.

And he knew that this was his chance.

He embraced the pain, letting it center him. He could hear himself talking to Dumbledore under Voldemort's command, but he didn't pay attention to it. Letting out a breath, Harry closed his eyes mentally, looking for the connection that bridged their minds. Finding it, he let a triumphant smirk twitch across his lips. _:Hello,:_ he hissed, tentatively. There was a jerk from Voldemort's end of the bridge. _:Before you kill me, would you please hear me out? I think I have a deal you would benefit from.:_

And then he could see Voldemort in his mind, looking at him almost curiously. _:And what is this...deal?:_

 _:I don't want to kill you. I don't even want to fight you; I never have.:_ Voldemort let out an indignant chortle. Harry gave him a level look. _:The first time I went against you that I remember, I was eleven years old. Do you really think I wanted to fight you?:_

Voldemort looked thoughtful at this. _:But you still did.:_

Harry let out a startled laugh. _:Well...yeah. I thought you were going to kill me! I was terrified!:_ He shook his head and let out a soft sigh. _:I don't want to fight you; I don't hate you, Voldemort.:_

The snake-like man sneered at him. _:I have yet to hear a deal from you.:_

 _:I will, at the very least, remain neutral for the remainder of this war. If I am attacked, I will fight back. If someone I call family is attacked, I will defend them. But I will not fight against you without cause. However, if you agree, I will...ally myself to you. I will not be branded by your Mark. I will be my own faction in this war, working towards my own goals. I will help you get Hogwarts. I will help you bring Dumbledore to his knees.:_

Voldemort thought this over for a moment, looking rather intrigued at the idea. _:And what would you get out of this deal?:_

 _:I have a block on my magic,:_ Harry said, looking him in the eye. He knew he was taking a huge chance by revealing this much information. _:Dumbledore put it there without my knowledge and without my permission during my first year. I cannot break the block on my own. I would like your assistance in removing it.:_

The man looked at him dubiously, but nodded after a moment of hesitation. _:Very well.:_

 _:We should wait until the year has ended; don't want Dumbles to replace it.:_

 _:And where shall I find you?:_

Harry hesitated, weighing the pros and cons before deciding it was worth it. _:Number four, Privet Drive.:_

Voldemort smirked, and Harry worried, briefly, that he made a mistake. _:Very well, Harry Potter, you have yourself a deal.:_

And then everything went black.


End file.
